A Virgin for the Ruthless Duke (In War and Love #2)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

S elina had always imagined what would happen if they were caught alone, even while she crept down lonely hallways late at night to meet Richard.

She had always known that they would be caught—it was almost certain—but the reality of it was not as frightening as she had thought it would be.

Perhaps it was because, at that moment, she was emotionally numb, unable to feel anything after Richard had quite successfully shattered her heart into pieces.

It was difficult to feel fear when your heart was in pieces, or maybe it was hope—frail and insistent—that this situation might force Richard to marry her.

It was unfortunate that she did not want him that way. She wanted him willing, asking for her hand because he desired her and could not imagine a future without her by his side.

But if everything went downhill the way it looked like it would, she might not have a choice in the matter, and neither would he.

The silence was broken by the library door slamming shut as Herbert stormed in, pushing Richard back into the room. Now, she could see Herbert’s face. He was furious, and he had Richard’s collar in his hands, threatening to strangle him.

Richard was not doing anything to defend himself, allowing his body to be easily tossed around by Herbert. Herbert had slightly toned muscles due to sparring, but Richard was built like a Roman sculpture with pure muscle everywhere, and he didn’t want to hurt him.

“You will marry her,” Herbert said with finality. Cold and unyielding, just like their elder brother.

“I am afraid I cannot do that,” Richard replied, a note of apology in his voice.

His response seemed to anger Herbert even more, as his eyes blazed with rage.

“I took you as a man of honor, but you have shown that you are not. We duel at dawn,” he said decisively.

“I accept,” Richard said simply.

Selina arched her eyebrows incredulously. “You cannot mean to duel. It is outlawed in England!” she said in outrage.

“We would meet in a secret location,” Herbert said offhandedly.

“It is a barbaric custom unfit for English nobility,” she shot back.

“Nobility has nothing to do with this, Sister. He had dishonored you. I must demand satisfaction to preserve your dignity.”

“Dignity?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “What good will my dignity do me if either of you died or sustained life-threatening injuries because of me?”

“It is what has to be done, Selina. Please stay out of it.”

“Please, Herbert,” she begged, stepping forward so she could loop her arm through his. “There is no reason for you to duel with him. I was the one who found him here. I wanted to meet. I promise you that nothing untoward happened. We only shared a kiss. That was all,” she said, staring earnestly into his face.

It was more than a kiss, of course, but what her brother didn’t know could not hurt him.

She kept staring into his face, using her most persuasive voice, and soon, his resolve faltered, bringing a smile to her lips.

“There will be no duel,” he said reluctantly, still eyeing Richard with distaste. “But the deal only remains if the Duke proposes to you.”

Richard opened his mouth to answer. Selina already knew what his answer would be; he had been saying it to her for the past few hours, and she knew it was not the right answer to give Herbert if they were to preserve the fragile peace she had managed to broker.

“I do not want to marry him,” she blurted out, effectively shocking Richard, who turned to her with an astonished look on his face.

“But Selina…” he started in a cajoling tone.

“I will marry the Earl of Sanderson. He has expressed to Aunt Martha his wish to court me and make me his Countess. I shall be very happy, indeed,” she said with a laugh that was supposed to be joyful but sounded false and bitter to her own ears.

She knew already from the look on Herbert’s face that he did not believe her fake enthusiasm. That was the disadvantage of trying to fool a sibling who knew her so well. They could spot her prevarications from a mile away.

“I never knew that the Earl had asked for your hand in marriage,” he said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Yes, he was not able to tell you. You were not there at the time, so he asked Aunt Martha for her permission to court me.”

“Well, Aunt Martha told me nothing.”

“Perhaps she had forgotten.”

She forced a laugh, but it came out fake as well, and she closed her eyes briefly in mortification. Herbert was watching her closely with suspicion.

She forced a smile and continued, “You know how Aunt Martha is. She was probably so preoccupied with planning my supposed wedding that she totally forgot to tell you.”

“Perhaps I should go and ask her when we are done here,” he said, turning his cold gaze on Richard.

Herbert had known for some time that something was burning beneath the surface between his sister and the Duke of Seymour. It was there in the glances they exchanged from across the room. It was there in how close Seymour held her when they danced and how he growled under his breath whenever he spotted her in another man’s arms.

Those two wanted each other, and it was annoying watching them circle each other in public instead of announcing their engagement. Herbert had guessed that they met secretly because the attraction he sensed between them did not seem like one nurtured with few public meetings, especially not when they were at a house party together, with ample spaces for private assignations.

He had guessed, but he had hoped that his logical sister and her lover were level-headed enough to save themselves from ruin. That was until he had found them in the library.

He had decided to take a walk down those lonely corridors to clear his head and give himself a respite from the suffocating air of the crowded ballroom. He was enjoying his solitude until he came to the library door and heard distressed voices. He was contemplating opening the door when it opened and he found himself staring at a disheveled Duke of Seymour. Over his shoulder, he could see an equally frazzled Selina. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

But something about Seymour’s expression gave him pause. For someone who was caught in a compromising situation with a lady and faced the possibility of a confrontation with the lady’s brother, he showed no signs of panic or remorse. Instead, his expression was blank, except for flickers of hope, as if he wanted fate, something other than himself, to force him to do what he wanted to do.

He looked like hell. His eyes were rimmed by dark circles, as if he had not had a good night’s sleep. Perhaps the lack of good sleep had made him slow to realize the gravity of the situation.

Well, Herbert was there to rectify the situation.

“You will marry her,” he said, injecting all the anger and outrage he could muster into those four words.

After all, that was the role of the affronted brother, even though he was not quite as incensed as he pretended to be. His older brother was not in residence, and in his absence, he was going to be as protective as possible of their sisters. Never mind that he was rooting for Seymour to marry Selina.

Pushing his way in, he became even more perplexed because, apart from looking disheveled, Selina looked frazzled, her face blotchy and wet with tears. Whatever their reason for meeting privately, it had not ended well.

His annoyance with Richard turned into full-blown anger. While Seymour was a friend of their family, he had no right to cause Selina distress for any reason.

“We will duel at dawn,” Herbert barked, and this time he was really angry.

The reply he got was strange because the Duke accepted with a resigned, numb look in his eyes, like he didn’t really care what the outcome was. Like he was already in hell and could not imagine a failed duel being worse than his present situation.

It was his sister who begged, insisting that she was fine marrying the Earl, who had already asked for their aunt’s permission to court her. But Herbert knew something was wrong because her smile was overly bright. It did not reach her eyes, and she stole glances at the Duke as she spoke as if willing him to react to the presence of a rival suitor. He saw her disappointment when Seymour showed no reaction, his head still bowed as he leaned against the wall.

“Have it your way then, Sister,” he said at last, eager to give them space to sort out their problems. “Seymour,” he called, waiting until the other man raised cold eyes to his before continuing. “I will come back to demand a proposal if Sanderson does not propose. This time, I will not hesitate to demand satisfaction if you fail to propose.”

He waited for the Duke’s nod of assent, the movement slow as if it cost him a great deal of strength to make it.

Richard always knew they would get caught; the possibility was there, lurking under the surface while they started being careless about their meetings. He had allowed passion to get the better of him and pleasured her in semi-private locations. He had known that one day, they would get caught, and perhaps the thrill of doing the forbidden made it sweeter. Perhaps he had even wished for them to get caught so that he would have an external reason to hold on to her.

Because she would be ruined if he did not, and their reputation would be destroyed if they did not. So when he had encountered her brother just outside the door while he could still taste her on his lips, he had been calm. A tranquility that was strange as he waited for his outburst—and he knew it would come because no self-respecting older brother would be happy to discover his sister in a compromising situation with a man, family friend or not.

Perhaps he should have been grateful that Stephen was not the one who caught them. He very much doubted that it would have ended with threats of a duel and furious warnings. He was sure that, by now, he would be nursing a sore face from well-placed blows from the man. Somehow, he even wished he had been punched in the face. At least he would have physical pain to distract him from the throbbing in his chest, which worsened when Selina turned wounded eyes on him.

“Goodbye, Richard,” she had said in a hoarse whisper. “I wish you happiness.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the library without a backward glance. Perhaps she shouldn’t have bothered to wish him happiness.

He was in hell. Men in hell did not need happiness. He certainly did not deserve it.